


One-Hundred Twenty-Six

by gracefulally



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/pseuds/gracefulally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has moles. Derek is slightly obsessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One-Hundred Twenty-Six

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [THIS](http://www.flickr.com/photos/yllparisienne/3187660539/) gorgeous and mildly NSFW picture.

“Derek, seriously, they’re just _moles_ ,” groans an exasperated Stiles before he stretches, arms flopping back, above his buzzed head as the lean muscles of his chest and abdomen pull away from each other. “This whole obsessive attention thing stopped being cute weeks ago. I mean…” Stiles trails off and glances over to see Derek looking smug as he scratches another tick mark on the side of the desk with his grotesque-looking wolf claw.

“All right, so how many days?” Stiles asks as Derek rolls toward him and pins Stiles to the bed. “Please, tell me that we’re going to hit some triple digits before you’re counting dots on my dick,” Stiles deadpans.

“One-hundred twenty-six,” Derek huffs before pressing that same claw to mole number forty-two, the one on the side of Stiles’ chest, near his heart, but also near enough to his armpit to make him writhe from the ticklish feeling. Stiles still gets mouthy with Derek for that one. He loathes that the answer to the universe and everything is in his freaking _armpit_ and makes him squawk like a gull.

Stiles does some math and his eyes bulge. “Stop, stop, _stop_!” he says in a breathless rush between tickled hoots before he grabs Derek’s hand. “That’s four months. You’ve been counting my stupid moles every day for _four months_.”

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek grumbles with a tired look. “What else have I been doing for four months?”

“Kissing me…”

“And?”

“Fucking me…”

“And?”

“Making puppy eyes when you have to leave…”

“… _And_?”

A look of sudden realization comes over Stiles and he grins. “Oh.”

“Stiles…” Derek rumbles, testy.

“For one-hundred twenty-four—”

“—twenty-six—”

“— _twenty-six_ days you’ve been saying you love me and I haven’t said anything.”

Derek’s jaw sets. “I’m not _just_ saying it, Stiles,” he begins with frustration knitting his brow and making it look more dramatic than usual. “I do love—”

“—love me like a lovely river of loving love or some crap. Got it. The thing is…” Stiles trails off and drops his gaze, looking around the room and worrying his lips with his teeth before his gaze rounds back to Derek, who is looking kind of hurt, kind of desperate, and kind of…precious. 

“I love you, too,” Stiles says quietly, gasping a breath just before Derek steals it away again.


End file.
